Worthless
by Raven3357
Summary: Short. Dull brown eyes. Plain black hair. I am worthless. Not even the nerds accept me. Would a knife's shiny blade save me from more torturous days in Hell or am I living on nothing but false hope? Would anyone be persuasive enough to change me from that choice? Perhaps...Jerome Clarke? Jara.


Hope

"Hey look! It's the Jaffray girl! What a nerd! I heard she cheated for her boyfriends. I'll never date such a loser. What's the fun in that?"

"I heard she's a teacher's pet. A goody two-shoes."

"Does she even make friends? Who'll want to be friends with a nerdy bookworm?"

"Do you reckon it's true that she's a bastard? Her parents are both athletes and look what Jaffray turned out to be! One of them probably had an affair. My guess is the father."

"Oi Jaffray! Where are you off to? Going to class early again, are you? Will you be sleeping in the library again? Is that maths text book a comfortable pillow?"

Raucous laughter bounced off the walls and lockers of the school corridors as I attempted to walk to class through the maze of students without being the target of another shower of insults. I slipped past them, head bowed down and clutching my books tightly.

"Jaffray! Why are you even here?! You should be in the asylum for troubled know-it-alls!"

That was me.

Mara Jaffray, the school nerd.

I ignored the continuous comments and felt relieved when I reached the French classroom. My heart sank like the Titanic on the 14th of April, 1912, when I went in...

To be greeted with smirks and whispering.

I slowly trudged to my seat at the back, praying the daily torment would be over soon. As I placed my books on the wooden desk, I felt something wet hit the back of my hair.

I cautiously reached for it and pulled it off in disgust as I realised someone spat chewed gum at me. I felt something gnawing in the deep pit of my stomach as more guffawing and snorting echoed through the classroom as I flicked the piece of light pink gum away.

Tears welled in my eyes and I looked down, my dark hair covering the majority of my face from prying and inquisitive eyes.

I quickly blinked them away before anyone could accuse me of being a cry baby.

I hate this place!

I hate my classmates!

I hate the lack of discipline!

I hate my life!

I sat back as Mrs Andrews strolled in with her usual black handbag. Usually a lesson of difficult questions would soothe and calm my emotional stability, but today, Mrs Andrews's lecture droned on for hours and went through one ear and came out another like a train travelling at an incredibly fast speed through stations on a long and eventless journey.

_Brring! _

There was a stampede to the door like a herd of restless animals as the other classmates raced for freedom, away from imprisonment in a classroom.

Once the rush slowed to a trickle, I began walking out, cradling my tattered biology textbook. It was an ordinary book, but was special.

To me.

I paused at my locker and traced the name of the previous owner with my finger and smiled a little. It vanished a second later as I was pulled against the wall by my hair.

"Well, well, well! Jaffray! What's this? A bio textbook? Don't you have a life?! Socialise! Do you even know what Twitter and Facebook are?"

I tried slipping away, but tripped over and fell face flat on the foot-trodden floor.

My textbook skidded away and I reached for it...

To receive a staggering blow to my forehead by a strong foot.

Instinctively, I recoiled and felt blood seeping from the cut on my forehead like the rushing water of a waterfall. I gently touched the scratch and winced as droplets of blood landed on the ground, who swallowed it up greedily.

I wished I could disappear from the gathering crowd in a blink of an eye.

There was nothing more I wanted than to evaporate into thin air.

_Rip._

My mouth dropped open in shock and revelation as pages of my beloved biology textbook floated to the floor in front of me like snowflakes in Winter.

Pieces of valuable knowledge were shredded before my eyes as if they were nothing more than portions of wasted toilet paper.

That was the last straw.

Tears welled in my eyes and streamed down my cheeks as the ripped book cover was thrown carelessly on my lap.

I sat and stared at the opposing wall, wallowing in self-pity. It wasn't long before my torturers grew bored and drifted away like leaves carried away by the wind. I sniffled and wiped away my tears that were mixed with the drying blood.

I began gathering up the pieces of tattered paper, believing in the lost hope that I would recover it all and tape it all together.

"Are you alright? Do you need help with that?" said a concerned voice.

I looked up and my tear stained eyes met the icy blue eyes of the school prankster; Jerome Clarke.

"Oh, it's nothing," I said, shifting my gaze away. "I can manage.

"You're bleeding," he said, stating the obvious.

I smiled tightly and scurried away, holding the remaining pieces of paper to my heart as if they were the gems in my jewellery box.

I escaped to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror.

Short.

Dull brown eyes.

Plain black hair.

I am worthless.

Nothing about me factorised the importance of living as a captive in a torturous dungeon, forever suffering in agony by the constant pain of being an outcast, the social pariah, never fitting in with even the common nerds of the school.

I pulled out the small pocket knife from the front compartment of my bag and stared at it. The more I looked at it, the more the silver blade glinted at me.

Use me! It screamed at me. Come on Jaffray! End it! You know it's right!

I turned away from the accusative glare of the mirror and caressed the blade over my wrist. I took a deep breath and...

"No. You know it's wrong."

Jerome.

Again.

"Please just go!" I said in a strained tone. "If you're trying to make my life more miserable, you're doing a great job! You're just like the rest of them!"

"No," said Jerome, tenderly taking my hand into his and stroking it. "If you press that knife, they would've won. This is what they want. They want you dead. They're the losers with no lives. They don't know the difference between a crocodile and an alligator. You are worth a hundred gold coins while they aren't even worth a silver one."

"You don't even know me-"

"I sit two tables away from you in every class. That Campbell cockroach who punched you in the corridor? I can assure you that he's running for the hills. He won't be bothering you again. There is the extension trigonometry test tomorrow. Are you willing to miss that?"

"Why do you want to help me? You have your friends and will only be humiliated if you're seen with me around school! You have a reputation to protect!"

"I don't give a damn about it. I'm nobody's puppet. I control my own life, and if those idiots can't see the truth with their own two eyes, they're the embarrassed ones."

"Jerome, you _do _realise that you're not supposed to be in here?"

"What? The girls' bathroom? I'm here_ all _the time. Not literally. Why don't we have a deal? You put down that knife and give me the best Mara smile and I'll take you out for dinner? Or would you rather watch a movie or plot revenge on Campbell? Your choice. Just give me one teeny-weeny grin. Come on Mara! I'm sure you can manage!"

I couldn't help, but smile genuinely for the first time in months.

Jerome grinned back at me, showing his adorable dimples. He calmly took the knife from my weak grasp and casually placed it in his pocket.

"What would you like to do later?" he asked, placing his arm around me.

"Can I help you do your trig homework?" I said brightly.

He stared at me as if he's seen a ghost.

"My homework?" he repeated.

"It's the least I can do for you," I said, my spirits soaring in the sky in contrast to it's usual descend to the pits of Hell. "You know what? You're the first person to call me by my name."

* * *

**It probably isn't that good, but I wanted to write a HOA fanfiction for no particular reason...you can probably tell that Jara isn't my forte in fanfictions! Please review and no flames! :) **


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